


A Rose by Another Name

by xHeatherbee



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullevelyan, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Relationship(s), Secrets, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHeatherbee/pseuds/xHeatherbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't know what I would find when I left home, only that I would die if I stayed any longer. How was I supposed to know that I would get swept away in a war and cast into a pivotal role in deciding the fate of all Thedas? </p><p>How was I supposed to know that I would find you? And that you would become everything to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Many Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> This story is one I had originally started (Second Hand Rose) and then deleted because my writing in that one was poop. So now it's back, hopefully better this time around. I tried to step away from it for awhile, but Cullen just kept sucking me back in. 
> 
> I have an unhealthy obsession. Sorry, not sorry. Let's do this!

“Concentrate, Rosalie.”

I inhale slowly and focus my eyes on the target. The hastily made scarecrow stands approximately 200 feet from me, arms idly swaying in the breeze. My goal is the red ‘x’ scrawled on its chest in bright red paint. I finish my inhale and I feel the resistance of the bow string as my hand draws next to my ear. 

I exhale and release. 

The arrow flies past my ear with a sigh and soars above the head of the target, just as all of my arrows did when Cassandra was trying to escort me through the valley to the Breach. 

I hear a dull thud as it comes to rest in the trunk of a tree somewhere nearby. Somewhere in the branches overhead a crow lets out several sharp caws. If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was laughing at me, just as Varric tried not to when one of my arrows flew so close to Cassandra’s head and scared her so badly that she let out a curse. 

I let out a frustrated sigh at the same time my newly appointed mentor does.

Eleth sits behind me on the remains of a fallen tree. Like me she’s tall and lithe and unlike me she’s the best archer the newly formed Inquisition could find on such short notice to teach me. She’s also the only archer currently in the camp of any merit. Lucky for me. The Dalish are known for their archers and Eleth is no exception, but I had hoped to find someone a bit kinder to teach me. Eleth is curt to a point and sarcastic. If she had been born in the Free Marches, we could have passed for sisters. That thoughts frightens me. Not for my sake, but for her's.

“You do realize that your target is straight in front of you, correct?” asks Eleth. “I’m pretty sure the trees have done nothing to warrant your relentless assault.” Her eyes, which were on me mere moments ago, shift away. She idly examines her fingers, suddenly fascinated with a nail on her right hand. The corners of her lips twitch up into a slight grin. 

I grit my teeth and bite back a retort; getting angry at her won’t help my aim. It might make me feel better though. 

She glances at me, testing my reaction to her words. This is not the first bit of sarcasm directed towards me, but the bite of her words increases as my lack of skill remains constant. Every missed arrow is another notch in her ever shrinking patience. And there have been a lot of missed arrows. 

Aside from the slight shift of my jaw, my face remains neutral and no hint of any emotion shows. As always. 

Eleth sighs once again and trudges off into the trees to find my wayward arrow. Her light footsteps fade away until I can no longer hear her. Once I am sure she is gone, I turn and curse quietly. 

I know she is irritated with me. Since I woke up a week ago, she and I have spent almost every day from dawn until dusk out here in this field. I should have been able to get the hang of archery by now, at least at a novice level, but I’m beginning to suspect a Dalish newborn could out shoot me. 

My problem, she has told me repeatedly, is a lack of focus. With everything going on around us, it’s easy to see where my inability to focus comes from. The Conclave is still fresh in all of our minds and my new role as Herald seems more of a curse than salvation. Everyone wants answers to what happened and what to do next. I don’t have anything to tell them. 

And I was the one that wanted adventure when I left home. I shake my head at my stupidity.

Eleth returns with the arrow, snow crunching beneath her feet. She twirls the arrow around her fingers several times before she flings it at me. The sharp tip pricks my finger as I reach out to catch it, but I make no comment. 

She retreats behind me as I make ready for another attempt. 

“Don’t forget to focus, Rosalie.” Her voice sounds bored and I suspect she isn’t looking at me at all anymore. “If you expect to stay alive when you reach the Hinterlands, you need to be able to at least hit something.” 

My anger flares up once again. 

“Let’s make a deal then,” I say, relaxing my bow arm as I turn to face her. “I hit the target, you stop calling me Rosalie.” I made a mistake telling them my name was Rosalie. Rosalie is a girl who ran from home. Rosalie is scared and weak. I don’t want to be like her. 

She seems to consider it. Her eyes appear thoughtful for a moment before she says, “All right, but it’s not like it matters. You’ll never hit anything anyway.” She grins at me. “And when you miss, and you will miss, you’re never allowed to make any demands ever again. And you’re training will get a lot more fun. For me that is.”

I nod once and turn back to face the target, not giving her the chance to see if her words have any effect on me. I do know that I can’t afford to miss now. I feel like this is a test I brought upon myself and I am terrified of what will happen if I fail. I have only known Eleth a week and I don’t know her very well, but her idea of ‘fun training’ does not sound like something I want to see. Or experience. 

My eyes shift back to the target and my arm comes up automatically, the arrow already fitted to the string. I allow myself a small smile; at least this movement has become natural. 

I inhale and draw back on the string. My mind races with so many unpleasant thoughts that I’m finding it difficult to concentrate. I shake my head as if it could clear my mind. I cannot afford to be distracted now, not on this shot. 

But the anger I’m feeling won’t go away. Between Eleth’s biting words, the events of the past few weeks that have lead me here and thoughts of home, my mind is in a constant state of distress. 

I decide to use my rage to fuel my shots. At the worst I’ll take out some frustration and at best, well… 

The wind teases across my face, but I ignore it. I aim for the target and imagine Eleth’s smug face in place of the target. Her yellow eyes take the place of the scarecrow’s blank ones. I stand there for several seconds just breathing.

A calm comes over me and I feel a sense of clarity I have not felt in…ever. I feel in control and somehow I know before I release my arrow that it will find the target. I don’t know how I know that and I don’t care. 

I release and the arrow buries itself near the center of the target. Not deeply, but it doesn’t fall out. 

Behind me, Eleth groans. 

“Great, now she’s going to get all high and mighty,” she mutters. Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose and her voice takes on the angry pitch of Cassandra’s as she says, “We need her to be able to fight and you’re the only one that can help her. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

I suppress a grin as I turn to face her. “I think I’ve gotten the hang of it,” I say evenly. “And you can call me Rose.”

“It was a lucky shot,” Eleth says. She grins. “Bet you can’t do it again, Rose.” She says my name with sneer. I can tell she’s dying to taunt me, but she keeps her bargain. For now at least.

“Watch me.”

I return her smile. It’s fake and forced, but if she realizes it she doesn’t let on. I don’t smile easily. It’s a start though. I’ve tried less during interactions with others. 

I retrieve my arrow once more and set up again. 

I know how to do this now. The last shot was all I needed, the last piece of the puzzle. I understand now. 

Anger is the key, the focus I’ve needed. I’ve always been controlled by anger and fear. 

Now I am in control for the first time. 

And I like it. 

For the first time since I left home, I’m relieved.


	2. A Tall, Walking Freak

I wake up to the sound of soldiers barking orders and the clamor of hammer on steel and, for a moment, I forget where I am. I ready myself for an attack, reaching for the bow and arrows I keep beside my bed. But wait, at home I don’t keep weapons in my bedchamber. My father would never allow it. Then the strange smell that is the combination of wild elfroot and the stables hits me and everything comes back to me in stages.  


I remember that I am in Haven.  


I am the Herald of Andraste, or so they say.  


I survived the blast that ripped apart the Temple of Sacred Ashes and left all dead aside from me.  


I have a mark on my hand capable of rending giant gaping chasms in the sky open or closed at will.  


Well.  


I relax and release my grip on the bow.  


Every morning since the blast at Conclave I’ve woken up disoriented and confused. It’s such a contrast from my old life and I wonder if I’ll ever fully adjust, or if I’ll wake every morning thinking I’m suffering from an incredibly vivid dream. Or a nightmare. I haven’t decided which yet. Either way, I hope if this is a dream that it continues. It’s confusing, scary and wild all at once and I’m starting to think that I secretly love it.  


I’m also starting to think I’m going mad.  


I glance at the bed across the room at the bed in the opposite corner. Thankfully, it is empty; Eleth has taken to waking before dawn and returning well after dark. As if it weren’t already bad enough to be saddled with her as my teacher, the sudden influx of refugees into Haven from the fighting in the Hinterlands left us with more bodies than space. The house they placed me in was the only one that wasn’t approaching uncomfortable levels, but no one was brave enough to share a room with the girl who had survived the explosion and slammed the door to a horde of demons. No one except Eleth. At first I thought it was because we were finally starting to understand one another, and though we were far from friends, we might have some sort of an odd bond. But then she informed me that it was because she was the only one in camp who could stand to be near me for more than a minute and not want to kill me.  


“Blame your stupid mark thingy, or whatever it is,” she said. “You’re like this tall, walking freak. People hate freaks. They don’t know whether to kill you outright, or worship you as some sign from Andraste…and then kill you.”  


That was a few days ago. She and I have not spoken since, even during lessons. She instead is now communicating by throwing things at me and grunting if she needs my attention.  


I don’t miss her company.  


I climb from my bed and grimace as the cold floors send icy chills through me. If there is one thing about Haven I will never get used to, it’s the cold. No matter how many layers I wear or how close to the fires I sit, I’m always cold.  


I scurry over to the fireplace and gently poke at the dying coals. Tiny waves of heat reach me and, although it’s not enough to abate the chill completely, it gives me the time to adjust slowly. I stand there rubbing my arms for much longer than I should before the fire eventually fizzles out and I instead seek out additional clothing for warmth.  


I get dressed in a pair of black leather breeches and layer on a fitted, long-sleeved blue tunic. Not a formal outfit by any means, but the overall effect is still pleasant. Once I add gloves, boots and the armor Harritt fashioned for me, I walk over to the mirror to appraise my appearance.  
I frown.  


Part of me looks the same; pale blonde hair that hangs in lazy curls to my mid-back, stubborn chin, violet eyes that have drawn stares and whispers throughout my entire life. But where there should be a slender frame, there are layers of sturdy armor that add curves and bulk in strange places. My shoulders sag as if burdened by a heavy weight. I see the same weight, the same sadness in my eyes when I look twice. For all my excited thoughts and my eagerness for a new life, I’m still just as laden with guilt and anger.  


Some things never change.  


I sigh and start plaiting my hair into an elegant knot at the back of my head. I do this partly because I need a distraction and partly because I feel the need to maintain an air of distinction, an air of someone who could actually be the Herald of Andraste. I don’t know much about this Inquisition, but if I’m already being talked about as if I’m not enough because I’m a woman, because I’m someone unimportant, because I’m powerless, I want to at least look the part of someone who could be a leader, someone strong. Once I’m finished, I take a few seconds to lock away all of my troubled thoughts and compose my face. No sadness or anger left. Just a neutral face, as always.  


A knock sounds at my door and I turn as Cassandra enters. Right on time.  


“Good, I’m glad you are awake,” she says without preamble. She closes the door and starts pacing around the room, clearly agitated. “The Council has called a meeting and they’ve ask that you attend.”  


I stand, swallowing down a sudden lump in my throat.  


“They’ve asked for me?” My voice comes out weaker than I intended, but I cross my arms and act nonchalant in the hopes that she won’t notice.  


“Yes,” she replies. Her eyes meet mine. “Now that Commander Cullen and his forces have returned from what remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, we need to plan our next move.”  


“We need to plan?” I must sound dumbfounded because Cassandra gives me a strange look. I shrug and say, “I just figured I would be tucked away until a rift needed closing.” I wiggle my marked hand at her. “I didn’t think anyone would be interested in what I’d have to say.”  


Cassandra scoffs. “Whether everyone likes it or not, you are just as affected by this as the rest of us. You probably a bit more than the rest of us.”  


I notice she avoids eye contact with the mark on my hand. Apparently, I am not the only one frightened by it.  


“Whatever course of action we take next, you have earned the right to be there when we decide,” says Cassandra.  


I have not met any of the council members, save Cassandra. They have been mysteriously absent or otherwise indisposed since I arrived. I had started to wonder what was going on. Not that I was expecting to suddenly take command of whatever force they had mustered in Haven to fight this threat, but I thought they would have at least met with me once.  


I force a dry laugh. “Even though I’m probably the most hated person in all of Thedas? And not two weeks ago, I was your prisoner.” I pause to keep myself from getting emotional. “What changed?”  


Cassandra opens her mouth to speak, then pauses. When she speaks, her words are slow and careful. “Your actions at the Breach showed us…showed me that you could not have been responsible for the actions at the Conclave.” She sighs and stares at the ground. “I admit that I was wrong about you. I’m sorry.”  


I feel a pit in my stomach dissolve that I had not even realized was there and my mood lightens considerably. I hadn’t realized how worried I was until this very moment.  


“And you’re not the most hated person in Thedas,” she continues. “The person who destroyed the Conclave… that is the most hated person. It’ll take time, but everyone will see your innocence in all of this.”  


I grimace. “So for now, I’ll just be the tall, walking freak that people avoid,” I say, paraphrasing Eleth’s earlier remark.  


I mean to say it quietly, but Cassandra overhears and inclines her head.  


“I do not think you are that tall, a little more than average,” she says seriously.  


I almost laugh. Almost.  


“Did you just try to make a joke, Cassandra?” I ask.  


She looks affronted. “What? No, I did not mean to…” She sighs, “I have been spending too much time with Varric.”  


I attempt a smile. “I’ll pretend it never happened.”  


“I appreciate that. I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.” She gestures to the door. “Shall we?”  


I nod and stand, pausing once more to make sure my armor is correctly in place. I would not inspire much confidence with the council if I couldn’t even get dressed correctly.  


I see Cassandra appraising me in the mirror’s reflection.  


“Yes?” I inquire, curious as to her stare.  


“The armor suits you,” she says simply. She folds her arms across her chest. “You carry yourself well, as if you are nobility. Where did you say you were from?”  


She means it as a compliment. I know she does, but I feel as if someone has just slipped a rope around my neck and is trying to choke me. My body goes cold and I shiver involuntarily.  


Cassandra notices my reaction. “Are you all right?”  


“Yes, I’m sorry,” I rub my arms as if feigning cold. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the chill around here.”  


I know I need to say something about her nobility remark, but my mind goes blank. Lying has never come easily to me. My only saving grace is that even now, with her probing for information that I will not give, my face reveals nothing. If I ever have the guts to face my parents again, I’ll thank them for the one lesson they taught me: how to keep a straight face no matter what was going on around you, or screaming at you…or hitting you.  


Before the silence goes on to long I say, “I’m from the Free Marches, Ostwick to be exact.” I try to give my voice a hint of longing, as if I’m recalling a pleasant childhood memory. “The Sher’s were always a very kind family, especially considering they were the wealthiest family around. I found myself drawn to them and tried to model myself after them.”  


It isn’t technically an outright lie. The Sher’s are kind and I always did try to model them. What I don’t tell her is that I would have been drawn to any family other than mine. I did need someone to model myself after, because the idea my parents pushed on me would have destroyed me.   


“I never have had much patience for the nobility,” says Cassandra. “Not everyone shares my distaste however. Josephine, our ambassador, thrills at dealings with nobles. Perhaps the two of you will get along.”  


“We’ll see soon enough,” I reply. “Let’s see what this council meeting has in store for us.”  


The door slams open, startling us. Eleth stands in the doorway. Snow blows in behind her sending a horrible chill into the room and making me shiver once more, this time for real.  


“Are you still here?” she asks, glaring at me.  


“We were just leaving actually,” I say, glancing at Cassandra and motioning towards the door. She exits and I stand and follow her.  


“Good,” Eleth says. When I turn around to ask her something, she slams the door in my face. I grit my teeth and resist the urge to curse at her. I feel like it would only encourage her.  


“I take it your lessons aren’t going well, then?” asks Cassandra from somewhere behind me.  


I roll my eyes still facing the door so Cassandra doesn’t see. “No, my lessons are going fine.” I turn and head towards the Chantry, not offering an answer to Cassandra who thankfully doesn’t press me any further.  


I don’t think I would be up for lying anymore. I’ve already told two since I joined the Inquisition.  


One was about my name; Rosalie Tannen, not Trevelyan is what I told them.  


The second was about my past, about a past that belonged to someone else that isn’t me.  


I don’t want to bury myself in lies, but it seems I have no choice if I want to stay safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of Eleth is based off of my bestie who also happens to live across the street from me in real life. And she is a butt. Not quite as bad as in the story, but a little bit. 
> 
> Heeheehee...she's probably already reading this right now too.


	3. Don't Look So Grim, Violet

Cassandra leads me through the winding paths of Haven towards the Chantry. A light snow begins to fall around us. I glare at the clouds before I adjust my clothing, making sure there is no exposed skin.

Damn cold. 

We walk in silence. I’m too preoccupied thinking about the upcoming council and I’m sure Cassandra is doing the same. I honestly can’t think of what I could possibly offer the council other than the mark and my weird aptitude for closing rifts. I know nothing about politics, war or even, until last week that is, how to fight. I don’t tell Cassandra about it, but I’m fighting the urge to disappear into the crowd and wait out the meeting. I don’t think I can handle any more disappointed stares. 

We pass Varric who nods at us and offers me a wink, trying to be encouraging. I force a grim smile and continue on. 

“Don’t look so grim, Violet,” he calls out after us. “Curly isn’t that scary.” 

Beside me, Cassandra groans. 

“’Violet’ and ‘Curly’”? I ask, glancing sidelong at her. “Dare I ask?” 

“Varric is fond of his nicknames,” she replies. 

“Why does he call you Violet? Or are you Curly?” 

Her hair isn’t remotely long enough for there to be any curls in it. And nothing on her person is purple – not her outfit, not her shield, not her eyes…. 

Oh. I’m Violet. Lovely. 

I glance over and realize Cassandra has been talking during my pitiful revelation. 

“...his hair is always styled very nicely. It does make one wonder.” 

Makes one wonder what? I resist the temptation to ask her to repeat herself and just nod instead. All I gather is that ‘Curly’ is a man. In a city full of soldiers with farmers, blacksmiths and the like all clustered together, that narrows it down to just about everyone. 

Well…perfect. 

“And he must call you Vio--,” she starts, but I interrupt her. 

“I think I figured it out, Cassandra,” I say dryly. 

She laughs a bit at that. I shake my head and sigh. 

“And do you have one of these nicknames as well?” I ask out of curiosity. 

“He calls me Seeker,” she replies. She sounds irritated so I don’t press her. I think any mention of Varric is enough to shut her down. I wonder what happened between them for there to be such animosity. 

The silence returns as we pass by the tavern. Inside I can hear raucous laughter and glasses clinking together; someone in there is clearly having a good time. I envy them. I wonder what it would be like, to drink and laugh and carry on with a group of friends. I wonder when all of this is over if I could have something like that. 

I doubt it, but it would be nice. 

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your eyes are a very unusual color,” Cassandra says after a few moments. 

Unusual? I’ve never thought about it, but I suppose they are. If it were under different circumstances and they belonged to someone else, I imagine meeting someone with violet eyes would be a strange, but interesting experience. But to me, they are nothing more than a brand. A curse. The reason why I can never go home… and why I never want too. 

“Yes, they are,” I agree. 

She gives me a questioning look, but my focus is on the Chantry and the group of people milling about outside and she turns her attention there as well. 

The falling snow has not deterred people from gathering. The crowd is broken into several, tightly huddled groups. They fall silent when Cassandra and I approach and I can guess what they were just talking about. I lift my chin high and walk past them into the chill hall of the Chantry. 

The war room is exactly how you’d imagine; cold, imposing stone, a single large table plastered with maps and pawns used to represent military advances and forces, and several grim-faced advisors scouring over the table. Only, right now there are just a few scattered pawns on the map, most of them around a place called the Hinterlands. And the advisors aren’t all that grim-faced. They stare at me with emotions ranging from curiosity, to excitement, to…suspicion. 

The curious one is named Leliana; spymaster extraordinaire and keeper of more information and secrets than I could ever hope to learn in a lifetime, not that I haven’t started amassing a decent list of my own secrets so far. I hope that Leliana isn’t too keen on discovering my secrets too. I don’t know that I could hide them from her. 

The excited one is Josephine, the Inquisition’s ambassador. I thank whatever god will listen that I gave them a false surname. No doubt having a noble family on your side would boost the reputation of the Inquisition and make it easier to rally people to our cause, but I will allow no such connections. 

Commander Cullen is last. Golden haired, tall and muscular and…feathery, Cullen looks every bit the part of Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. My eyes linger on him a little longer than the others, but I spend most of it trying to discern the look in his eyes. Suspicious, accusatory, fearful... I don’t know what I could have done to warrant such a look. Didn’t Cassandra say everyone believes me about the Conclave? Perhaps not everyone shares that sentiment. 

Before I have time to think about it anymore, Cassandra introduces me and I glance away from the Commander. I still feel his eyes on me, but I ignore them as I force a smile and make my first statement to the council. 

“Impressive titles,” I say evenly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” My voice is steady and calm. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cassandra nod ever so slightly; she approves. I feel strangely encouraged by her support. I wasn’t looking for it, but it’s nice to have nonetheless. 

Cullen is still watching me, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Cassandra begins discussing plans to storm the Hinterlands and the advisors, one of them more reluctant than the others, turn to her. I breathe out a small sigh of relief and try to engage in the conversation. I have no experience planning war stratagems and my knowledge of connections in the area we can utilize is non-existent, so I don’t offer much more than a simple nod and a word or two in agreement. 

Everything seems to be running smoothly. We make plans for our small group to travel to the Hinterlands to aid in the relief effort. The war going on between apostate mages and rogue Templars is wreaking havoc on the people who live in the surrounding area. The advisors think that helping with the relief efforts and trying to quell the fighting would go a long way in getting us some recruits. I reluctantly agree. I’m not too keen on being near either side in this war, mages or Templars. The farther away I can stay, the better. Having Solas nearby all the time is putting me on edge as it is, but actively fighting groups of hostile mages and Templars? 

I shudder. 

“I disagree, Commander,” says Cassandra. “The mages are more suited for this.” 

Mages? I scramble to catch up on the conversation as I realize I’ve been distracted. 

Across from me, Cullen slashes his hand through the air. “The Templars could serve just as well.” He shoulders lift up proudly as he says, “I was one of them. I know what they’re capable of.” 

Cullen was…a Templar? 

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. My body goes numb. My mind is screaming at me, begging me to run. The way he’s been staring at me…the look in his eyes. It makes sense now. 

_He knows! He knows!_

The four of them are still talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying anymore. 

Broken, disjointed imaged flash behind my eyes: a young man smiling, lips forming words to an ancient chant, a black haired and broken woman, and fire, wild and out of control as everything in its path is incinerated and reduced to ash. 

The fire is coming for me too, I can feel it. My skin is burning and my blood feels like it’s boiling inside me. I feel it building up, feel the power surging inside me. I can’t contain it. 

Cullen’s eyes snap to me and his hand reaches for his sword. 

I cry out and clutch my hand as the mark flares up. I stagger back a step and my shoulder hits the wall. My teeth clench together as I ride out the pain. All eyes in the room are on me now. Cassandra and Josephine look concerned. Leliana still looks curious; I don’t think it’s in her nature to show her emotions easily. Cullen has withdrawn his hand from his sword, but he looks venomous as he stares at the mark. None of them make a move to help or say anything. They just wait and watch, both curious and terrified at the same time. 

I would be doing the same thing in any of our roles were reversed. 

A thin sheen of sweat coats my face and I am panting by the time the mark calms down. I flex my fingers to get some feeling back into the tips. Since we closed the initial breach, the mark has hardly flared up at all. When it does, it’s usually in the dead of night when I wake up from a nightmares. Eleth is always watching me when it happens, her yellow eyes assessing me from across the room. She never speaks about it and I never offer anything up as an explanation. We just both pretend nothing happened. 

“Are you all right, Rose?” asks Cassandra once it’s apparent I’m back to myself. 

_No, I’m not._

“I’m f-fine,” I reply. My voice is weak. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“What just happened?” Leliana’s voice. 

I don’t know how to answer them. To give them the honest answer is to condemn myself. None of them will understand, least of all Cullen. He’s still staring at the hand with the mark... The mark! 

“It was the mark,” I reply softly. I flex my fingers again and flash my palm upwards so everyone can see it. “Solas warned us that the magic this mark possesses was unlike anything he had ever seen. We don’t know how powerful it is. What happened just now was the first time it’s flared up this badly. Maybe it’s just reacting to the Breach being partially sealed. I’ll have Solas take a look at it if it’ll make you more comfortable.” 

As I say it, I’m counting on the fact that no one has ever seen magic of this kind before. It’s something new, something dangerous and I hope that alone will be enough. I’m using the mark as a shield and hiding behind it and I know it. I just hope they don’t. 

I direct that last part at Cullen. He seems to relax a bit, once again adopting his casual posture with his hand lazily resting on his sword hilt. Just in case I suppose. Everyone else follows suit. 

If the Templar is calm around the weird magic, everyone else is calm too. 

We finish the rest of the meeting quickly, I think out of sympathy towards me. It is decided that we will leave for the Hinterlands the day after next and that, in addition to our usual party, Eleth will accompany us as well. Apparently my archery is vastly improved, but not combat ready. I’m in such a hurry to leave the room that I barely protest. 

As soon as the meeting has ended, I leave as quickly as I can without drawing attention to myself. Once outside, I find a quiet place behind one of the houses where I can be alone and sink to the ground. 

It takes a long time before I’m calm enough to be seen. The pain is completely gone and so are the images that came to my mind – for now anyway. When I can finally stand back up, I resign myself to visit Solas. I’ve already lied once today and I don’t want to add another one to the ever expanding pile.  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


I find Solas near the apothecary, leafing through some book on the history of Ferelden. He closes the book as I approach. I briefly explain what happens and his brow furrows as he listens. 

“Let me see,” he says. 

I place my hand in his extended one. He is quiet for a while as he examines the mark, turning my hand over several times as if examining it from all angles will help. Eventually, he releases my hand and looks at me. 

“I am sorry about your pain, but there is nothing more I can do,” says Solas. “If we knew what the origin of the mark was, there might be some magic I could try. As it is, I would only be guessing.” 

I figured as much. I feel bad bothering Solas; the mark isn’t really what brought me over here. I needed a distraction. And I had a promise to keep. 

“It was worth a try,” I say. “Thank you, Solas.” 

“You are welcome.” 

In a weird way, I like conversations with Solas. They are always short and to the point. He’s not one for a lot of idle conversation, at least as long as it doesn’t involve talking about the Fade. I cringe just thinking about it. My second day I made the mistake of trying to have polite conversation and ended up listening to an hour long series of stories about ancient ruins and lost civilizations. 

I have seen ancient battlefields and slept among the crumbling walls of castles long forgotten,” he had said. “As long as you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.” 

And then he had continued on about abandoned citadels. I had been disappointed then; the spiders were the best part of that whole story. 

“Perhaps once the Breach has been sealed, we shall discover a way to remove the mark,” says Solas. “In the meantime, I’ve been reading up on histories of Ferelden and Orlais to see if there is any mention of a magic like this.” 

“Do you think you’ll find anything?” 

“It is hard to say. Most of the ancient texts have been lost over time, but sometimes a record of such things are remembered. If I can find such a record, it might help us.” 

I think I’m not the only one who’s curious to know about the mark’s origin. 

“You’ll let me know if you find anything then?” I ask. 

He nods. “Of course.” 

He appraises me for a few moments. I can tell he wants to say something else and I have a feeling I know what it is. I don’t give him the chance. 

“Thank you again, Solas,” I say again and walk away before he has a chance to speak. 

The only thing I can think of to do now is practice. I decide to head back to the house and grab my bow. 

I pass Eleth on the way. She stops a few feet in front of me and crosses her arms. 

“They give you the good news yet?” she asks. 

“About you coming with us to the Hinterlands? Yeah, I’ve heard.” I hesitate a bit before adding, “To tell you the truth, I’m actually relieved you’re coming with us.” 

That confuses her. She cocks her head slightly to one side. “Why does that make you relieved?” 

“Aside from Cassandra, you’re the only person I talk to. Even if it is a bit…tense between us.” 

She snorts. “You call this tense? What does it look like to you when someone actually hates you?” 

_Worse. A lot worse._

I shrug. 

“Well, at least it’s better than hanging out around here any longer,” she says. “I’m going stir-crazy being stuck here day in and day out.” Her lips twist up into a smirk. “You should go and practice. You still suck at shooting.” 

I know her game. She likes to provoke me to see if I’ll react and when I do, she uses it on me over and over again until she gets bored. So I don’t play along. 

“Already on my way there,” I say, putting a false cheerfulness into my voice. “You should come to the clearing later and we can practice together.” 

She turns and walks away, groaning. Before she gets too far, she calls out over her shoulder, “I said you suck. I didn’t say you sucked badly enough for you to still need me.” 

She walks off and heads in the direction I just came from, towards the apothecary and Solas. I turn and continue on myself, her words repeating in my head. 

_You don’t suck badly enough to still need me._

Despite myself, I manage a tiny smile.  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


I walk until I find a clear patch of open meadow. It’s on the other side of the frozen lake, so I should be left alone. Some druffalo are grazing nearby, but they leave me alone and I do the same for them. 

I’m trying not to think about anything, I’m just moving. Grab the bow, nock an arrow, release, repeat. I lost track of time. When I run out of arrows I retrieve them and start again. T

he sun is sinking behind the mountains when I finally stop shooting. I drop my bow to the ground. My fingers went numb hours ago and in some places the skin has been rubbed off. Tiny patches of blood dot my fingertips. 

Despite the cold and the dark, I don’t want to go back yet. I find an overturned tree and tuck myself against the roots to get a get view. 

The scenery around here truly is breathtaking. White capped mountains break up the vast expanse of sky which is streaked with crimson and orange. The meadow in front of me is blanketed with a thick layer of snow and reflects the fiery colors of the nighttime sky. It’s a surreal effect; the snow almost looks as though it’s on fire. 

_Fire?_

My breath catches. 

_No, not again._

I start to shake. I know I’m sitting on a tree in the middle of the outskirts of Haven, but my mind is somewhere hundreds of miles away, sitting in a library and watching it burn. 

“No,” I sob. “No, no…no…” 

A branch snaps behind me. I spring from the tree and reach for my bow. A man’s silhouette steps through a break in the trees. Gold hair, feathers… 

Cullen. 

I relax and let the bow fall back to the ground. I quickly wipe the moisture from my eyes so he won’t see. 

“Commander?” I ask, questioning his motives in coming this far from Haven. 

Part of me wonders if I should be worried. We’re completely isolated out here; the nearest person is probably half a mile back. I should be worried, but I’m not. I don’t know why, but I trust him. 

He stops a few feet away, giving me space no doubt so I feel comfortable. 

“There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

“Looking for me?” I ask. “Why?” 

Now I grow a little uneasy. Has he grown too suspicious? Did he figure it out after all? 

He suddenly looks uncomfortable. His hand rubs the back of his head and he won’t quite meet my eyes. “I wanted to apologize to you for the way I acted earlier.” 

Oh. I relax. 

“I completely understand,” I reply. He meets my eyes. “It terrified me the first time it flared up like that too. Still does.” 

“Yes well, I still wanted to say I’m sorry. I think I might have frightened you earlier. I don’t exactly have the best history when it comes to trusting magic.” 

“It’s all right, Commander,” I say. I attempt a smile. “It’s already forgotten.” 

It could be the lighting, but I think I see him blush. It could be the lighting, but I don’t think it was. 

“Please,” he says, “call me Cullen. Commander is my title, not my name.” 

I nod. “Cullen, then.” 

I’m anxious for this conversation to end. I’m barely holding it together and I’m not going to break down in front of him. 

Cullen seems to pick up on my discomfort. “I should get back. I just wanted to tell you before you left for the Hinterlands.” He turns to leave, but stops a few steps away and says, “Be safe out there, Herald.” 

I feel a twinge of guilt for sending Cullen off feeling like he’s bothered me. It’s not his fault that I have a dislike of Templars, or that he reminds me of a very different person. 

“Cullen!” He stops and turns back. “Please, call me Rose. Herald is my title, not my name.” 

He laughs quietly and smiles. “Be safe then, Rose.” 

I wait until he disappears towards Haven and then several minutes after that before I follow. I don’t want to take the chance on bumping into him, or anyone else for that matter. 

I make it back to the house without being stopped. Eleth is sound asleep and I crawl into bed as quietly as possible, trying my best not to disturb her. 

The room is dark and completely silent. I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts. With no distractions, the ordeal during the council meeting rears its ugly head and I start to cry. I try to weep silently, using the blankets to quiet the sobs. 

I finally figured out who Cullen reminds me of and that thought is my undoing. 

Every ugly feeling I’ve felt today, every bit of guilt and sadness and anger spills out of me. I tell myself than when I emerge on the other side of this, I will be strong. I don’t have a choice anymore. 

It’s the early hours of the morning before I finally fall asleep. My last thought is the smiling man I remembered earlier. Thinking about him usually brings on the nightmares, but tonight I finally have a good dream. He’s laughing and smiling as we sit in the library and joke about a book he’s reading. 

My brother was always so much more handsome when he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited some stuff from Chapters 1 & 2 because I tweeked her backstory. Just some minor changes, nothing crazy.


End file.
